


A Very Stranger Proposal

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Romance, Tumblr: tumblrsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jim has questions. Joyce has answers. Set during Christmas 1985.Part of a Jopper Secret Santa on tumblr.Smut in chapter two!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ballroompink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballroompink/gifts).



“So, if it happens every year at this time, how come we didn’t make a big deal out of it last year?” Jane ‘El’ Hopper inquired over a bowl of cheerios with a liberal coating of sugar and a cup of coffee-- equally full of sugar, and nearly white from the amount of cream in the little blue cup. The Hopper kitchen was bright and cheerful, smelling faintly of fresh paint. They had moved into the little ranch-style home with it’s tidy, white picket fence near the end of Summer. The house had sold for cheap, due to the amount of repairs needed-- but between Jim and Joyce, the two managed to apply their collective, economical DIY smarts to fashion a sweet little home for Jane and himself without hurting his wallet.

 

“What do you mean? Last Christmas was a blast,” Jim replied defensively before taking a long swig of his black coffee.

 

Last Christmas had certainly been interesting; the Hopper cabin had still been undergoing repairs, and in the meanwhile, Hopper and Jane had stayed with the Byers. It had been a tight squeeze; Will had been moved into Jonathan’s room, El stayed in Will’s room, and Jim slept on the couch… some nights. When Christmas rolled around, Jonathan and Jim made a half-hearted attempt to put some cheer into the still somber household, and create a semi-memorable first Christmas experience for Jane. The end result was frozen pizzas, a sad little tree purchased last minute, practical gifts (the beginnings of a decent wardrobe for Jane, new coats and boots for the boys), and a living-room floor covered in blankets and pillows for a movie marathon.

Joyce had been grateful to have other people take up the Holiday load for her, and ended up falling asleep well before 9 PM. Jim, as had been the ritual since his and Jane’s temporary residence began, waited until the children were asleep before he went to Joyce’s room, preparing to set up his blankets and pillows on the floor, and make sure that someone would be present in case she woke up in a twist of sheets and anxiety, screaming and trapped in a memory that wouldn’t let her be free.

 

_Stop doing this to yourself, Hopper. You’re not going to ruin your back on my account,_ she had murmured that night, as he shut the door behind him. He looked to her with astonishment in his eyes as she reached out one arm towards him, and then patted the pillow beside her.

 

“Will we have pizzas again?” Jane asked hopefully, snapping Jim out of his reverie. He blinked several times and grinned. The girl did love her junk food.

 

“On Christmas Eve, yes. Christmas Day we’re going to do a big meal, kind of like how we did for Thanksgiving.”

 

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Not turkey again. The other stuff was okay.”

 

Jim gave a short laugh and shook his head. “No, not turkey. I’m going to make my grandmother’s famous pork roast, with yellow potatoes and big fat carrots and a rum glaze. There’s going to be candy too. Joyce makes some mean Christmas candy, Haystacks and Turtles and that kind of junk. You don’t know what those are, but you’ll love them. They’re drenched in chocolate.”

 

“Fudge?” Jane asked hopefully.

 

“Fu- heck yes, fudge. If that’s what you want. Anyway, we’re going to have it here, so the place has to be in tip-top shape. The cleanest.” Jim intoned. He and Jane had a tendency to live like dissipate bachelors. He had hoped the new house might change their slightly lazy habits, but it was a learning process.

 

“If Joyce likes it enough, do you think she’ll move Will and Jonathan into our house? There’s three bedrooms up here, and you just finished the guest room in the basement. There’s plenty of room -- no more sardines,” Jane argued, echoing Joyce’s complaint from last year when they were all trying to give each other enough space. “And Jonathan’s going to college soon, so it can be a guest room again in no time,” she added.

 

Jim grew flustered, his eyes darting from his hands that grasped his coffee cup so tightly he was afraid it would shatter, to the curly-haired girl with the curious brown eyes. “Why do would you even think Joyce would want to move in with us? Moving is a pain in the ass-- you complained the whole time.”

 

“No, that was you, I’m pretty sure. Joyce would move in because she loves us and wants us all to be a family.”

 

Jim drew a shaky breath at her words, but tried to keep a neutral expression on her face. “She does love us, doesn’t she?” Jane nodded slowly, her expression clearly indicating that she thought her father was being very slow indeed. He smirked, and reached into the front pocket of his work uniform, pulling out a small, black velvet box.

 

“If I show this to you, you’ve gotta keep your mouth shut until Christmas.”

 

________

 

“Jonathan, be careful! There’s precious cargo in that thing.” Joyce warned as Jonathan stumbled up the Hopper’s driveway with a tupperware container filled with candy. “Hop will never forgive you if you wreck his precious Haystacks.” Joyce had made a double batch of the crispy chow-mein noodles rolled around in peanuts and melting chocolate. Her boyfriend tended to consume them by the handfuls like M&Ms, despite his constant protestations that he was on a diet.

 

“Sorry, Mom.”

 

“Do you think we bought enough pizzas?” Will asked teasingly as he held up two heavy grocery bags.

 

“Knowing Jane, probably not,” Joyce replied with a laugh as she pushed her wind-blown auburn locks from her face and knocked on the front door.

 

“Where’s your hat?” Jim inquired by way of greeting as he ushered the Byers family into his house. He moved quickly to take Joyce’s coat and purse and hang both things onto a hanging coat rack to the left of the door.

 

“Left it at work, I guess,” Joyce sighed, removing her mismatched mittens and shoving them into the pocket of her coat before turning in time to catch Jim’s lips brushing against her icy cheek.  “Hi,” she greeted almost shyly, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

 

“Hi. Boys, you can take the grocery bags into the kitchen. Jonathan, the guest room in the basement is finished, so you can bunk there, and Will can take the spare room at the end of the hall -- the one next to the bathroom.”

 

“Joyce!” Jane exclaimed, from the kitchen. She ran into the living-room into Joyce’s waiting arms. “Merry Christmas Eve!” she chirped, a blush in her cheeks as her eyes darted from her father to the grinning brunette.

 

“Do you have anything else to bring in?” Jim asked, ruffling his daughter’s hair as she moved to stand by his side.

 

“Oh yes. There’s a couple of garbage bags filled with presents in the trunk.”

 

Jim nodded, and grabbed his coat and Jane’s from the rack. “Time to earn your keep, kid,” he teased, handing Jane her coat. He turned to Joyce and added, “There’s a cup of mulled wine on the coffee table with your name on it. Kick back and relax a little.” he dipped his head to brush his lips against hers briefly, before throwing on his coat and clapping Jane on the shoulder. “Come on.”

 

Joyce smiled to herself as she settled onto the couch and picked up her coffee cup loaded with hot wine. Last year had been a long, cavernous stretch of misery and heartache, but now…

 

She thought about the brief kiss she and Jim had shared last Christmas when he crawled into her bed at her invitation. He had initially settled onto the mattress a good, respectable distance away from her; flat on his back, with his arms crossed over his chest almost protectively. She recalled making some kind of crack about him looking like he was practising for his own funeral, laughing for a heartbeat of a moment before she became horrified at the callousness over her own joke -- the laughter quickly turned to sobs, and he was at her side in an instant, pulling her to his chest.

 

She kissed him, not the other way around. Joyce unearthed the truth about Jim’s years long crush on her that night, could feel it in the way he immediately melted into her touch, the gentle way his big hands came up to cup her face -- but he would have never been the one to make the first move, especially not in a vulnerable moment like that.

 

In the end, the night didn’t progress past that kiss. Joyce apologized, but not louder than Jim apologized back-- they were both just a sorry mess. She didn’t kick him out of bed, nor did he put distance between them. They were both a tangle of limbs when the kids discovered them the next day, which- for two people just discovering a strong, but ill-timed mutual affection- was not exactly ideal.

 

Still, here they were, a year later; very open and public about their relationship (not that they were making out in restaurants, or in the middle of Melvald’s -- people just _knew_ , was all), and enjoying their second Christmas together as an unconventional little family. The Brady Bunch if Carol had anxiety and depression and if Mike were… well, not Mike Brady at all.

 

“Ho ho ho!” Jim exclaimed as he and Jane burst through the door, both carrying a overstuffed garbage bag a piece through the front door.

 

“Oh my, Santa, what a haul!” Joyce gasped in mock-astonishment, the wine, the cheer, and the burst of cold working in tandem to pink her cheeks.

 

“Santa is going to be especially good to _you_ this year,” Jane announced to Joyce as she knelt by the tree with her father to unload the bags. Joyce caught the quick, desperate look Jim shot the girl after she made her enigmatic statement, and felt her pulse begin to quicken, curiously.

 

“Santa has had a good run with me these past two Christmases, I don’t know how he’s going to top bringing you both into my life, though,” Joyce replied. Jim’s eyes met hers and she gave him one of her soft little smiles in response to the bewildered and tender expression on his face.

 

___________

 

The Christmas Day meal was delicious, and- not for the first time- Joyce was grateful that Jim was so unabashedly proud of the kitchen prowess that had started in his childhood. Young Jim had been, what Lonnie would’ve sneeringly called, a huge Mama’s Boy; he had been chubby, short and shy until his growth spurt, and with his father gone for long periods of time (military man), his preferred place had been at Gloria Hopper’s side, in her beloved kitchen. This bond did not change when Carl Hopper returned and took a position with Hawkins PD as Police Chief; as a result, Jim’s brain was a steel trap filled with hundreds of recipes that he never wrote down (too much work).

 

“Sorry about the potatoes,” Joyce commented, running a fork across her one contribution to the main course, and frowning at the bit of moisture that formed along the prongs.

 

“They’re delicious, Joy-Joy, hush.”

 

“Just mix them with the stuffing and drown them in gravy,” Will chirped, helpfully. The boy wilted under Jonathan’s warning glare. “Or, just hit it with a little salt and pepper because that’s all any perfect meal needs, really--I’m sorry, Mom. The potatoes are great.”

 

“When are we opening presents?” Jane asked abruptly, an urgent edge to her tone.

 

Joyce’s eyes widened as she exchanged a bewildered look with Jim before biting her bottom lip. “We opened a few last night, and we’ll open the rest after dinner.”

 

Jane scowled at Jim. “In all of the movies, people open the presents the night before or first thing in the morning,” she began, rather petulantly. “Never a little bit at a time. Last Christmas we opened everything in the morning.”

 

Jim looked like he was about to read Jane the riot act, but Joyce spoke first: “Well, sweetie, your father and I wanted to try to make our own traditions this year. A lot of families have their own little quirks they add to the holidays. Sometimes they open the presents right away, and sometimes they go after church-”

 

“What’s _church_?”

 

“Nothing you’d like,” Jim replied curtly, his arms crossed over his chest, color in his cheeks and a stern expression on his face. Joyce knew he was working hard on Jane’s social cues and manners, but she felt it was important to be gentle and patient with the girl.

 

“It’s a place people go to listen to someone speak about God. They read from the bible and pray and sing-”

 

“Eww.”

 

“Stop interrupting your mother!” Jim snapped, causing four heads to snap in his direction, all wearing expressions of alarm. “I mean… come on, kid, let her finish.”

 

“But I want you to ask her already!” Jane shot back, pounding her fist on the table.

 

“Ask me…”

 

Jim stood suddenly, his eyes burning. “You don't get to dictate my life, you're a child!”

 

“Ask me what, Hop?” Joyce inquired weakly. The room felt stifling all of a sudden, and her throat was tight and dry and her heart rate sped up.

 

Jim's eyes softened at Joyce's gentle question. He shot Jane one more look of reproach before he knelt at Joyce’s side, painstakingly getting on one knee and taking her left hand between both of his.

 

“Holy…” Will breathed.

 

“I wanted to wait until everyone else had a chance to enjoy their presents, but someone--" he looked over at Jane with a quirked eyebrow,  the malice gone from his expression “-- clearly isn't having it.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans and produced a small black box, holding it in front of Joyce’s face with a soft, beseeching expression.

 

“I hate speeches, but I love you. How ‘bout it?”

 

Joyce couldn't help it, she laughed; an audible snort followed by a sharp bark, and then helpless giggles, with one hand pressed over her mouth. She knew it was bad, that it was not the reaction he wanted, nor the reaction she wanted to have. No one else was laughing, and when she finally met eyes with Jim, the devastation in his face killed in the mirth in her throat. She took a deep breath and cupped his face between her hands, much like she had done that night in the tunnels. She held tighter when he tried to jerk away, his gaze darting to the floor.

 

“Hop… _James.”_ Using his given name pulled his attention back to her face, which held a soft, shining expression and a genuine smile. She bit her bottom lip as tears threatened to fall, raw emotion swelling in her chest.

 

“You know I will.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Joyce supposed she ought to have at least pretended to be interested in how Will, Jonathan, Jane and Jim were enjoying unwrapping the rest of their presents, but there was the issue of the pear-cut diamond surrounded by tiny pearls and set in platinum that was currently residing on the third finger of her left hand. It had belonged to his aunt, who had still been alive when he had proposed to Diane– which explained why the ring was now on Joyce’s finger. It was… quite a bit larger than the ring Lonnie had given her when they were kids and subsequently stole to hock for gambling money, and quite a bit more dear, come to think of it.

Jim had loved his aunt, and Joyce had idolized her in a way. She had been a mean, rich widow of twenty years when Joyce met her, way back when she and Jim were children. Eugenia Hopper in the stunning Victorian on top of Loch Nora Hill, who gave out caramel apples to the children on Halloween, but also told them to ‘fuck off’ when they lingered too long on her front porch. No intention to marry again, and no need to either; her life was a dream to Joyce.

The woman smacked Joyce on the back of the head once, for staring too long at the ring in question. Later, Jim told Joyce that Eugenia was afraid the young girl was going to kill and rob her for the ring, and wanted Jim to relay the message that if he got wise and proposed, the ring would be Joyce’s anyway, so it wouldn’t make any sense to turn to murder when a little patience would do the trick. Joyce snorted, shrugged, and assured Jim that she had no intention of murdering her aunt, that she just thought the ring was pretty is all.

But now it was on Joyce’s finger, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. She was vaguely aware of the fact that other people were speaking to her, but everything went staticy when her eyes were drawn to the truly ostentatious bit of jewelry that probably cost more than her house. She couldn’t swim with it on, that was for sure. Jesus, what if she was mugged? People would certainly notice this sort of thing and…

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Jim inquired, his lips centimeters from her ear. Joyce blinked several times before giving a little gasp.

“Yep, I’m just a little overwhelmed. Is everyone having a good Christmas?”

Jonathan, Will, and Jane replied in an affirmative chorus.

“Good,” Joyce replied before yawning.

“Okay, kiddos, let’s take some of this stuff back to my house,” Jonathan announced as he pulled himself to his feet. “Jane, pack an overnight bag.”

“Why?” Jane asked, wrinkling her nose from her place on the floor. She was wearing several scarves and a floppy knit hat that fell over her eyes.

“Because Mom and the Chief have a lot to talk about, and we should probably give them space for the evening.”

“Oh.”

________

“You’re marrying me, not the ring, you know,” Jim teased, toweling his hair dry, as Joyce sat on the edge of her bed in blue plush robe, holding her left hand high so the diamond caught the light.

“I thought she was joking when she said I’d get it when I married you. I’m very pleased with myself for not murdering her back when I was eight.”

“Same,” Jim agreed, sitting next to her on the mattress and pulling her to his side to kiss the top of her head. “It looks good on you,” he murmured against her hair. “Thank you so much for saying yes.”

Joyce grinned and crawled into his lap so she could face him and tease at his lips with her own. He was only clad in a towel that was slung around his hips, and already she could feel his arousal rising against her thigh. His beard was soft and slightly damp from the shower as she cupped his face between her hands.

“What else could I have possibly said?”

“Fuck off?” Jim suggested, a sly half-smile on his lips, his hands stroking up and down her sides. Joyce growled and nipped at his bottom lip.

“I would never, you’re everything I could have possibly hoped for.”

Jim responded to her confession by deepening the teasing kisses she was bestowing on him, pulling her tighter against him as he hands went to her back and then downward to cup her ass as he lifted his hips to tease at her center. They were all tongues and teeth and need as she writhed on his lap, grinding against his terry-cloth covered cock.

“Jesus,” he groaned as he pushed her robe open and bent low at capture one exposed nipple between his lips. She sighed and arched her back, allowing him to give suckle as his thumb and forefinger teased at the other turgid nub.

“Hop…” she moaned as he bit down gently, and then licked. Her hands went downwards and pulled away at the towel, leaving him exposed to her touch. He was hot, smooth and rigid as the closed one hand around his cock and began to stroke. He brought his lips back to hers, in a hard, desperate kiss that masked his gasps.  Her thumb caught a bit of precum, and she swirled it about the head before bringing it to her mouth and sucking at the moisture, her eyes never leaving his.

With a hoarse little cry, he cupped her ass and lifted her a bit before settling her onto his cock. She gave a little whimper at the intrusion; he was so large and it was always an adjustment, no matter how positively dripping she was from wanting him.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered as she tightened her walls against his length and began to move her hips. He finished pushing the rest of the robe away from her body, throwing it to one corner of her room as one hand gripped at her waist and the other cupped her cheek as his tongue ruthlessly plundered her mouth, his hips rising and falling to meet her knowing rhythm as they fucked in a seated position.

Joyce tilted her head back to allow Jim’s lips and teeth to scorch a path down her neck as she increased the speed of her rocking hips, chasing the precipice that was coming on hard. He slipped a hand between them and stroked at her clit, murmuring encouragement as he sensed her denouement. She swore and then cried out his name as she tightened, released, and shuddered against him.

“Not yet,” Jim announced, fiercely, before maneuvering so that she was on her back, and he was standing near the edge of the bed, pulling her tight against him, his fingers digging into her hips as he tilted her at an angle, her legs about his waist as he thrust harder and deeper into her, his balls slapping against her ass in an increasingly erratic pattern. The second orgasm hit her like a freight train, spreading across her already heated flesh like a brush fire as she cried for him. He pulled out with a quick curse, finishing on her breasts and stomach with quick strokes and ragged breaths.

After cleaning her off with a warm, wet cloth, Jim snuggled into bed next to Joyce and pulled her against his chest.

“Goddamn, woman. You’re going to put me into an early grave if we keep going on like this,” he chuckled, still short of breath from their exertions.

“I can’t think of a better way to get at your pension,” she teased, peppering his cheek and neck with hot little kisses.


End file.
